


Snakepit

by tinx_r



Category: Riptide (TV)
Genre: First Time, Herpetophobia, M/M, Ophidiophobia, Snakes, casefic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-06-08 19:59:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15250920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinx_r/pseuds/tinx_r
Summary: A missing yuppie and a missing snake are getting ready to screw up Nick's life. A whole lot, as it happens...





	Snakepit

Fifty snakes, at least. Caged, most of them, or at least in those glass-fronted terrarium-things people use for reptiles.

Made my skin crawl.

Cody an' Murray both know I don't like snakes much, but they don't get it, not really. Even Cody's not above tossing a rubber snake at me if one happens to be lying around. You know, when Melba visits.

Great fucking joke.

He doesn't like it much when I roll the Mimi, so you'd think he'd show a little more compassion. And you'd think both him and Murray woulda given me more warning, before we went inside this reptile-nest. 

"By the way, guys, Gantry is a herpetoculturist."

"Sure hope he's getting treatment for that, Boz."

And you know what? Cody snickered right along with Murray, which made no sense to me, because Cody's no more familiar with six syllable words than I am. Until Murray said, "It means he keeps snakes, Nick."

I was still glaring at both of them when we arrived, only neither of them were paying attention to me. They were too busy sniggering, and talking way too much about herpes. They can keep that along with their snakes.

This guy Gantry, aside from collecting snakes and turtles and some kind of lizard-crawler, is a bottom-feeder who preys on young idiots who can't make rent, or their car payment. You get the picture? He's a loan shark, or maybe a loan snake, and I'd pay money for the opportunity to punch him right where he lives.

To add insult to injury, today we gotta play nice. We're following up on a yuppie gone missing, walked out on his family and disappeared. And although it'd make my week if Gantry'd killed him, and stashed his body nice and neat for us to find? Far more likely young Michaelson's packed his bags and skipped for Vegas, taking Gantry's money and his father's hopes along with him.

And Gantry's precious, priceless, one-of-a-kind albino African Rock Python, all thirty-something feet of him. Okay, maybe that's kind of an exaggeration, but according to the size of his cage and the pics, he's one big sucker. And he's on the loose someplace, maybe-maybe-not the same place as Michaelson.

Me, I cooled off the case so fast you wanna call me an Eskimo, you be my guest. So when I heard the Boz telling Gantry we'd be honored to take on finding that snake, and I watched Cody pocketing a check like it was his latest flame's phone number, I just headed on back to the Jimmy. Nothing to see here, boys. Just your best friend and business partner losing his shit, nothing you gotta worry about.

"Are you gonna be okay with this, Nick?" Murray asked me, belatedly, as we were heading back to town. "I mean if you want, you could focus on the Michaelson case, and Cody and I can see about the snake."

Cody shot me a glance and looked back at the road. When I walked out, he knew. I'd never walked out on him, not ever, not even during that shitstorm with Tricor. "We need the cash," he said, quiet. 

We always need cash. It's one of life's givens - the sun comes up, Mimi needs parts, Nick an' Cody are short on cash. Just how it is. But no matter how broke we are, there's things we wont touch, no way, no how. 

We never needed to make a checklist 'cos we've always been on the same page. But if we had, I would'a put snakes on it. Just putting that out there. "Cody, I'm not going near that giant albino monster snake for a million bucks. Or any other snake. Ever."

"Yeah." Cody cleared his throat over top of Murray starting in on Whiteworm's genus and species. Or maybe it was his pedigree. "Uh, I didn't -- I mean, I knew you didn't like them, but I didn't know. Okay?"

At that, I sat back, some of the tension draining out of me. For Cody, that qualified as a bended-knee apology with dinner and a movie. "Thanks," I said, and he put his hand on my knee.

For all his bravado and big talk, he's a sap, really, and he hates to hurt me. Which is lucky, because he can get under my skin anytime, and sometimes he's way too casual and quick to push my buttons. Just knowing he would'a backed me if he'd got it made a difference.

"So what're we gonna do? Go check out Vegas? Hunt down some local snake dealers?"

***  
So much for not going near snakes. In the last five days, I'd seen more snakes than I would'a figured lived in the whole of California, and all of them were within fifty miles of the Riptide. Time to time, I've bitched Cody out about the boat, muttered about condos -- but you know what? There's hardly any water snakes. 

But we still hadn't found Whiteworm, or Michaelson, or any sniff of the cash. Turns out there's this whole network of snake dealers, some of 'em on the up-and-up, and the rest, if I'm any judge, just as slippery as what they sell. But they all of 'em swore on their mama's graves they hadn't heard one word about Gantry's albino. 

The reason I started to believe them was the way some of 'em turned a funny color when Gantry's name was mentioned. Struck me the guy was maybe something more than a loan snake, at least in this business, and that got my interest piqued.

Cody an' Murray got kind of impatient with the questions I wanted to ask, and somehow Murray never found the time to run all Gantry's income an' bank accounts like I asked. Too busy hunting down Michaelson's hookers. I should'a stuck with that too - those girls were kinda sleazy, but at least they had legs an' no scales.

If I'd only followed their lead, we never would'a found Michaelson. But looking back, I could'a lived with that.

It all came to a head in Fresno, where we'd landed up a week in, none the wiser save for what Sam Michaelson Junior liked to do behind closed doors. And all I got to say about that is, I'd sooner sit down for a beer with Whiteworm and his whole damn family than shake Michaelson's hand.

Cody knew I was sick to my gut about the whole damn case, and truth be told, he didn't like it any better than I did. Only he'd gotten us into it, and that meant he'd see it through - that's just how he's wired. So he put a brave face on and talked up the positives (there weren't any) and because I get him at least as good as he gets me, I didn't walk right out and jump a Greyhound home.

Murray hates when me an' Cody are antsy, like a kid when mom and dad are fighting, I guess. Makes him miserable and snarky an' hiccupy in about equal amounts. The Jimmy must'a felt the same, because it blew its radiator, no doubt because of all the kerb-crawling it was havin' to do. 

That's what I told Cody, anyhow.

So there we were, stuck in a shitty by-the-hour-or-day motel in Fresno, hookers all up an' down the row ass-deep in our business, Cody grinning so hard it must'a hurt him, and Murray hiccuping so hard the walls were fair shaking.

Me, I was sweetness and light about the whole thing, as I'm sure you can imagine. In fact, that evening went so well, by one a.m. I'd walked on out and was taking in the delights of Fresno at night. Fun times.

We'd been at home, I would'a gone and slept in the Mimi. Fifty-fifty Cody would'a let me, or would'a showed about four a.m. to haul my sorry ass back to the boat.

But here we were off the script. I was way too wound about the whole thing to stay put and talk like a rational human being, and although I could'a gone to bed and ignored Mr. Cheerful, with Murray hiccuping like that there wasn't any rest to be had.

So instead I'm walking the streets stewing, with nowhere to go and no way of getting there anyhow, and Cody's either back at the motel sick to his gut over what stupid stunt I'm gonna pull, or out looking for me.

I knew it, and it was half the reason I was angry. I wouldn't hafta pull any stunts at all if those two idiots would've left the goddamn case alone. 

I was moping along, sunk in my own misery, when I saw Cody. He was down the block talking to a hooker, and when he saw me his face lit up, and he shook her hand. I scowled to hide a grin and dug my hands in my pockets, but kept walking. He started toward me, and as he did, something hit me hard between the shoulder blades.

"Get the other one!" I heard, as I pitched forward. I tried to roll, ready to fight - they wanted Cody, they were coming through me to get him, no two ways about it - but something bounced off my skull.

For a moment the lights got really bright, and I heard Cody yelling my name. An' that was the last I knew about that.

Next thing I knew was a head so bad it went straight down my spine one way, and straight through my eyes the other. Ain't felt like that since me an' a Huey had kind of an argument about which way was up, back in-country. Only that time, I got a nice friendly field-hospital to recover in, with a pretty nurse an' all.

This time, once I finally managed to get my eyes to shut up about what hurt and goddamn show me something, I wished long and hard for that field hospital. Or even for that pretty green stretch of swamp me an' the Huey ended up compromising on.

First thing I saw was Whiteworm. I mean, we'd never been introduced, but a thirty-plus foot white snake sitting up and grinning at me? Yeah, I knew him all right. And about twenty of his cousins, turned out, only they were kinda brown.

Me, I turned green and tried to run. Only my head wasn't having any of that, so I laid on the floor, cried, and pissed myself.

Yup, I'm the king of good choices.

A bit later on, I came round again, an' this time I was able to see the snakes were behind glass. Didn't exactly help - they were still too damn close - but unless I planned to hyperventilate til I died of it, it was time to find a plan. And get my sorry ass off the ground.

Trust me, I considered the first option. Only thing was, they'd at least tried to grab Cody too, and if I went ahead and died, where did that leave him?

When there's a snake every square inch and you're trying not to look at any of 'em, plus your head's spinning so hard you can't tell which way's up, standing up ain't as simple as you might think. But I made it somehow, finally leaned against a wall I thought was solid.

Then it slithered, and I hit the deck again.

That time, I crawled. Let me tell you, I know what it is to be scared. I ain't no hero, not like Pitbull or some of the guys over there. But I've never been as scared as I was in that snakepit ever in my life.

Seemed like hours til I found a door. Maybe it was - I never looked at the time until later, until there was a closed door between me and the snakes, and I'd swapped my soiled jeans for a pair of overalls I found in a janitor's closet. When I did, it was seven a.m. and as far as I could tell, I was in a schoolhouse closed for vacation.

What the snakes were doing in the basement was a whole other question, and one neither me nor my headache wanted to think about.

I'd come out into a narrow corridor with a flight of stairs leading up to the janitor's closet. From there, there was a wide hallway and a bathroom with under-size plumbing and that was it - there were two doors into classrooms but they were locked, and the swing doors at the end of the corridor wouldn't budge. 

I wandered up and down a bit, trying to get my head on side, and figure a way out. There were windows but they were reinforced with safety mesh, and believe me, I've known since third grade they don't offer a quick exit. 

The other thing I knew, deep in my gut, was that Cody was missing and maybe in danger. 

In the end, I did the only thing I could. I went back downstairs to the snakes.

They didn't look any friendlier than they had the first time around, but on the plus side, they were all still in their cages. I made it across the room without pissing myself or puking, which wasn't a given, believe me.

And then I had to look at them, because every inch of the walls save the door I'd come in by was occupied with reptile cages.

And whaddaya know. There was another door all right, right in back of Whiteworm's giant glassfront cage.

You know what? I went ahead and puked.

Then I opened the mesh hatch at the side of the cage, and went behind the glass.

It was kinda warm, or maybe that was just the cold sweat. I don't know. The goddamn thing lifted up its head and kinda swayed at me, and between that and the concussion, I nearly tossed my cookies again. I made it to the door somehow, found the latch and got it open while Whiteworm hissed and danced and hissed some more.

Then I fell out the other side into the real nightmare.

At least four bodies, one of 'em fresh in a pool of blood. I been around more death than I care to think about in my life, and that smell is like nothing else. But there was more here, decay and filth and evil.

I nearly turned right back around to take Whiteworm up on his hospitality after all.

Only I didn't, because there were dead bodies and I didn't know where Cody was.

The fresh one was female. Took me less than a minute to figure that out, and to realise the others were a week old or more. That was all the thinking on 'em I did, before I started to look for a way out. Meanwhile trying to listen through walls and watch every direction at once in case whoever's playroom this was returned.

It was a basement room like the snakehouse, only a lot colder. Lit by fluorescent tubes up high - the lights in the snake room had seemed to come from floor level. To be honest, I wasn't paying much attention to the interior decorating. I was a lot more interested in the exit.

It was easy to spot, but the door was locked and didn't want to budge. I wasn't exactly surprised - if your hobbies included chopping up ladies in the basement of a schoolhouse, first thing you're gonna want is a lock on the basement door. Little details like that gets the PTA up in arms in no time.

So I've heard.

Yup, I was getting loopy. Between fright and the concussion and the cold I was getting to the edge, and I knew it. Plus I was thirsty and light-headed and still sick to my stomach.

Most of all, I wanted Cody. There's only so long I can hold it together alone, especially under fire. Or trapped in a murderer's den surrounded by snakes.

Worst thing about it all was I had no idea if Cody was safe. Or how to get out, or where I was, or even, for sure, what day of the week it was. 

Clicking of the lock solved one of the problems for me. The space offered nothing in the way of cover, so I did the only thing I could think of - ducked behind the door. And who should walk in but Gantry, large as life, dragging a schmuck in a suit by the back of the neck.

"You show me, Michaelson," he snarled. "You show me my snake, an' he's okay, an' we're gonna forget all the rest of this little party." He glanced at the women's bodies, and dropped the schmuck. "I told you at least a hundred times you gotta stop this psycho shit, didn't I?"

It was good advice, but obviously Michaelson hadn't taken it. I didn't stop for more pearls of wisdom, just shimmied out the door before either of 'em thought to turn around.

Then I closed the door and turned the key they'd helpfully left in the lock, and hoped like hell neither of 'em had a key for any of the doors snakeside in their pocket.

There was some muffled thumping but that's all, which gave me the idea that chamber must be pretty well soundproof. And when I looked around, I was in a basement stacked with rickety-looking chairs and desks, so I guess maybe no-one even remembered that room existed. Except your friendly neighborhood psycho currently inside it.

I found the stairs, hoping against hope they'd left the upper doors unlocked for me. I was getting real tired of being locked in with snakes and psychos, I can tell you. And anyhow, I left school in sixty-nine, and never figured on going back. 

I finally made it into the light, out the door, down a corridor and found an exit. It had one of those push-locks connected to a fire-alarm maybe, but by then I wouldn't have cared if it summoned Superman, the President and the National Guard. But just as I was about to open it and take the consequences, I saw movement in the bushes outside the window.

I hunkered down. I was in a reception area with little cover, and if anyone started shooting, I was a sitting duck. Who knew how many crazies were waiting outside, or how fast they'd come in if they realized there was a problem.

I couldn't see clearly through the shrubbery, or maybe it was something more. Things were starting to feel trippy, and something told me the concussion wasn't doing me any favors. 

I was still looking around for a better place to hide when the main door, directly across from me, swung silently open.

I been in tighter spots, but not without an M16 for company. I grabbed a paperweight off the nearest desk, flattened myself against the wall and wished for Cody.

As the first one came through the door, I threw my paperweight with all my strength. Maybe it'd take the guy out. At least it might make them cautious, and, I hoped, make 'em duck back outside.

I thought of heading back for my fire door, trying to make a break for it, but when I started to move, my knees wouldn't hold me. I heard a curse from the main door so maybe my paperweight had done some damage, but instead of hiding, or running, I slid down the wall and closed my eyes.

Playing dead. The way I felt, I was close enough. I could hear footsteps coming, but even if I'd wanted to open my eyes, I was fading too fast. 

I'd read about bright lights and celestial music, but there was none of that - only blackness and my partner's voice, calling my name. Kinda hurt they'd gotten him too, but in the end, we were together and that's what counted. 

***  
I woke up laying on a cloud, with Cody holding my hand. There was blue sky and sun, and birds singing, and although I was kind of fuzzy, I noticed Cody still had his pink polo, and was kinda light on the white robes and wings.

Then a paramedic showed up and shone a light in my eyes, and burst my bubble well and truly.

The headache came back along with the blood pressure cuff, and when the paramedic finished poking at me I found my cloud was his stretcher, and now I was awake he was pretty keen to cart me off in his ambulance.

I found my voice, and my feet, and managed to persuade him otherwise. I managed to stay upright mainly by leaning on Cody, who let me know I wasn't fooling him any. But he knows I hate hospitals.

But then the paramedic's partner came and whispered something, and the guy turned kinda green, and followed her away without another word. I looked up at the schoolhouse and saw a cop standing in the doorway looking grim, and I figured they'd found the house of horrors.

I tossed my cookies in the nearest bush, and things went kind of black again, and next thing I knew, I was in the goddamn ambulance after all. 

At least Cody was still holding my hand.

He did that a lot, the next couple of days. It helped keep the room from spinning. It was the only way I was brave enough to close my eyes, truth be told, given the brand-new nightmares I’d gotten as a parting gift from Whiteworm and his master.

Cody’d stayed while they questioned me, so he had some idea what had gone on back there. What I’d seen. I don’t think he really knew how bad it was, being locked in with that snake, but he understood I was more than just concussed.

I couldn't find words to tell him any more about it, didn’t want to talk about it anyhow, even to him. But he stayed close, ducked nurses and slept in a horrible hard chair, made poor Boz deal with the Jimmy repairs and managed to sweet-talk the local cops into leaving us out of the prosecution.

He got it. And that meant the world.

Still does, six weeks later, safe home in King Harbor. As far as anyone's concerned that case is a distant memory, all wrapped up and barely paid for. Turns out people don't exactly shower you with cash when you show up with evidence their darling boy's a psycho killer.

But grudgingly or not, they paid us for three days, and that covered the Jimmy's repair, so it wasn't a dead loss.

Michaelson's in custody and likely to remain so for the rest of his life, and Gantry's out again, as slippery as his friends. His check bounced, which seemed to take Cody by surprise, but I persuaded him to leave it alone. He got that, too.

He's the only one who knows how hard it hit me. Part of it's the concussion - I'm still kinda woozy if I stand too fast, lose my lunch if the Riptide rocks the wrong way. I haven't even dared take Mimi up yet, an' that's everything you need to know right there.

The other part - shit. I wake up nights crying, thinking Whiteworm's coming for me, thinking Cody's dead. Guns and bodies and choppers - hell, I'd pay money to go back to dreaming about them, if you know what I'm saying.

So I ain't sleeping for shit, and go figure, Cody isn't either. I tell him to stand down, catch some zees, I head out on the beach, out to Mimi, wherever I can guarantee there won't be a snake.

And he's there, with me, hands on me and you know what? I take it. He holds me, he keeps me safe. A strong guy, one of those heroes, he wouldn't need that from his buddy, you know?

I got a paperback in my hand and I been reading the same sentence for a half hour, trying to find courage to turn off the light, when Cody sits down on my bunk.

I look up at him as he takes the book out of my hand and drops it on the nightstand, all anyhow. "You lost my place."

"Oh yeah? Figured you'd know the page number by heart as well as the story by now, big guy. Shift over."

He got me. Again. "Yeah," I say, and belatedly, "haha, you're a funny guy." Even though he knows, I still feel small that he's seen through me. Still feel like I should be able to do this by now.

"Shift over," he repeats, and shoves my leg. A minute later he's in the bunk beside me, pulling me in, finding a way for us both to fit.

It's kinda tight, but it's doable. We been doing this a bit, the last six weeks. Only it's been after I wake up screaming, not at bedtime.

"C'mon," Cody says, finding his spot. "Relax. I need a decent night's sleep, huh? And so do you."

"Yeah," I say, because it's true. "Um, like this?"

"Want me to go?" he offers, and that gets me. Because no, I don't want him to go. I want him to hold me and never let me go, truth be told.

"No," I say, and to me, my voice sounds as vulnerable as I feel. I need everything he's giving me and maybe more, and what kind of loser does that make me?

"Told you, been telling you for years," he mutters. "Whatever you need, I'm good for. Right?"

"Huh." It's true, he's told me that. I told him that when he cried for a week over that stone-cold bitch Janet Ingram. Come to think of it, Whiteworm kinda reminds me of her, only he's better-looking. "Don't figure you signed on for babysitting duty though, am I right?"

"I signed on as partner with the craziest guy God ever put breath in, or that's what Pitbull told me," Cody says, and holds me tighter. "And you know what? I wouldn't change one minute of the ride."

That turns me to mush. I'm about a second from bawling like a baby, because this guy is the reason I'm alive, in every way that matters. He knows everything there is to know about me and believes in me anyway, and that's more than I can do six days out of seven.

"Go to sleep," he says, before I can open my mouth and embarrass myself and him anymore. It's good advice. I reach back, grip his thigh, squeeze. Hope it says enough.

***  
I wake up with the sun in my eyes and Cody's rod in the small of my back. That may not sound poetic, but let me tell you, the first full night's sleep I've had in six weeks? You better believe it's a fucking sonnet.

"Better, huh?" Cody mutters, lips against my neck.

Don't get me wrong, this ain't unprecedented, if you get my drift. Me an' Cody been fucking around together, on and off, from about the day we met. You wanna ask me why, you take a good long look at Mr. Allen stripped, an' if that ain't your answer I expect you're legally blind.

"Yeah," I agree, and sit up. What I wanna do is kiss him and jump his bones, but what I gotta do is take a leak. Morning, schmorning. "Gimme five, okay?"

"Dime store bladder," he teases, but whaddaya know, he follows me into the head and pisses right alongside me. I look at him sideways but he just grins, steps around me, washes his hands and passes the soap as cool as you please.

I'd tackle him right here, but the head's kinda cramped for that sort of thing. So I've heard. Only then he pins me against the wall, and I forget most of everything.

This guy. He can blow my mind in a half-second, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

A bit later, we're cuddling in Cody's bunk. Or I'm cuddling, anyhow, and he's reading a magazine. Go figure. 

This isn't how it goes, and I'm off-balance, but I'm not ready to let go. God love him, he hasn't said a word, just moved over, wrapped his arm round me and held on. I should be in my own bunk by now, or cooking breakfast, or putting on my overalls and bitching him out about Mimi's plugs. That's how it goes.

"I'm sorry," I say at last, because I'm starting to freak out. I don't know what's in his head, and I'm kinda scared - my mind's going places I don't think he'll follow, and I can't seem to stop it. Worst is, I know I'm not cured, and I got no idea how to ask him to sleep with me again tonight. I just know if he lets me go, I'm liable to start crying.

"What for?" he says, and puts down the magazine. "Wasn't it good for you?" He looks kinda puzzled.

"Idiot," I say, because he is. I didn't scream, because the place we came from, that would'a gotten us shot and that's a habit you don't forget in a hurry, but he knew how he'd made me feel. Or he did, if he wanted to think about it. "Thanks for letting me hold on a while, you know? I -- I need -- " 

I stop right there, because I don't have a way of finishing that sentence that fits with who we are. How we are. And yeah, maybe I'm not who he thinks I am, who he wants me to be. And maybe this last case has scrubbed off a couple of layers, ripped me open a bit too wide, even for him. 

"Shut up," he says, just in case I'd come up with anything else stupid to say in the meantime. I open my mouth to try, and he puts a finger on my lips. "I mean it. Shut up. I'm your partner, right? You need me, I step up. Yeah? So why in hell would I leave you high an' dry now, huh?"

"Oh," I say. My heart's going a mile a minute, and my brain's scrambling to keep up. He has a point, but there's a line here someplace, one we been dancing around since the first day we fucked, an' I always had an idea it was booby-trapped. One step the wrong way and it's curtains, if you get my drift. "I guess. I'm still not in great shape, you know, and if - I guess I'm scared I'll fuck this up, you know? Because I couldn't do it without you, okay?"

"You're a fuckin' moron," he says, and kisses me hard, right on the mouth. That sure as hell ain't how it goes. In twelve years he's never laid one on me, 'cept when we're going at it. I'm still trying to process that when he does it again, and it occurs to me I maybe should return the favor.

We make it upstairs at dusk to share pizza with Murray, and just in case I still have any crazy ideas, Cody won't stop touching me. Cuddling up against me on the bench seat, petting my arm, hand on my back in the galley. 

Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining. Ask me any day of the week an' I'll tell you, I'd rather be close to him than not. Can't blame that on the concussion.

Murray doesn't notice, bless him, even when we skip dessert. He just takes a second piece of pie, clatters something on his keyboard that makes the Roboz light up, and mutters a goodnight in our direction. 

And me and Cody? We go downstairs, an' we get in my bunk. Together, because that's how it goes.


End file.
